Four teenagers stop to refuel in the arse-end of nowhere, the petrol gauge of their car pushing empty.

It's the standard road-trip-gone-wrong plot, the basis for many a slasher flick.

Fifteen minutes into House of 1000 Corpses, it becomes blatantly clear it's not the last horror cliche Rob Zombie will use in his directorial debut.

"Yeah, well, it is very basic," says the founding member of industrial-shock-rock band White Zombie. "The same plot as The Old Dark House or The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

"The plot, in a sense, is irrelevant, because the point of the film is that it wasn't meant to be a Sherlock Holmes mystery that you were suppose to unravel. The whole thing is more about the characters and the insanity of it all."

Insane doesn't even start to describe the macabre nature of House of 1000 Corpses, nor the unrelenting tortures served up to the unsuspecting teenagers.

In a scene reminiscent of The Twilight Zone, Jerry, Denise, Mary and Bill stop on the eve of Halloween, 1977, at a ghoulish petrol station-cum-twisted carnival sideshow.

Proprietor Captain Spaulding, a character sprung from the loins of a demented carnie, offers the group a ride through his Museum of Monsters and Madmen.

Naturally, they accept, and the film moves decisively into Texas Chainsaw Massacre mode.

The intrepid tourists take a detour past a local landmark, the tree where Doctor Satan, a plastic surgeon with an unholy appetite for murder, was hanged.

They pick up a beautiful hitchhiker on the way, who lures them to a creepy-looking house. The don't-go-into-the-house signs are everywhere. Yet, not surprisingly, the group proceeds, allowing Zombie (the director, not a member of the living dead) to introduce a family of inbred white-trash weirdos, who hold the secrets of many a missing person.

It's about now that Zombie ladles great helpings of horror chestnuts into the action. Black-and-white clips of classic horror flicks, split screens, sinister characters wearing suits made from the American flag and victims dressed in bunny costumes being chased by murderous members of the white-trash nuclear family: these are just some of the ingredients.

House plays more like a homage to the horror pop culture of the '70s than a truly frightening film. The suspense lies not in the desperation of the all-American teenagers, but guessing which cliche Zombie will use next.

"I put that stuff in there on purpose, but not as a tribute to something else," says Zombie. "The film is so full of different things that people draw references from movies I've never seen or movies I don't even like.

"They [critics] say: 'Oh, that's definitely [from] Motel Hell.' I saw that once 25 years ago, I didn't like it and I certainly wasn't thinking Motel Hell when I shot the movie."

Yet nearly every element and cinematic tool employed has a level of meaning or reflection. Captain Spaulding shares the same name as Groucho Marx's character in the 1930 film Animal Crackers, "God is dead" signs flash on screen, and an eerie Alice in Wonderland-like sequence reveal Zombie's fascination with American pop culture.

"In America [when I was young], there was a big horror revival going on," says Zombie.

"There were television shows like The Munsters, The Addams Family, The Twilight Zone and The Outer Limits plus the movies, comics and magazines. It was saturated into the culture, and it just hit me. I loved it."

He continues to stay true to the cause. Apart from his artistic plunges into cinema and music, Zombie churns out a plethora of comic books, action figures and art celebrating the underbelly of American culture.

Does perpetuating the culture of his childhood make him feel like a kid who has never grown up? He says no.

"As a kid, I just discovered things that I really enjoyed," says Zombie. "I still enjoy them.

"In the same way, I don't look at someone who played sports for a living and think: 'Boy, he never grew up. As a kid he liked baseball, and now he's a professional baseball player.'

"Running all these things that I do, you can't be some dopey kid; it's a full-time job."